


A4A: Grace

by alltoseek



Series: Available for Adoption [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dogs, Dog!Harold, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 09:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10273988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: Harold turned around on Grace's lap in a circle, then carefully lay down. He heaved a great sigh, placed his head on his paws, and closed his eyes for sleep, the world’s most contented animal.Harold (dog) meets Grace (human).





	

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to my betas, alcyone301 and feroxargentea, who patiently follow my fics even into fandoms they're not in themselves <3 <3 <3

Grace Hendricks came to volunteer at the shelter after submitting her artwork for a fundraiser, the Art for Animals Auction. The shelter loved her depictions of animals with people: walking their dogs in the rain, the people hunched in their raincoats or huddled under umbrellas (the dogs being dogs); someone waiting for the bus at a bench, dog waiting patiently next to them; a neighbor bending over to pet a cat perched on a front stoop. Her soft, almost blurry vision was lovely with just a hint of melancholy. Her auctioned work sold extremely well, and the shelter commissioned her for more for their communications (marketing, development, newsletters, etc.). After completing the commissioned work Grace began volunteering in the office, primarily in developing and maintaining their communications (graphic design and layout, etc.). She came in several times a week, usually for a couple hours each time.

When she entered the office set aside for her use (and for other volunteers), she admired the large windows set in two walls that met at the corner. They allowed for a lovely view of the courtyard of the shelter, with the main office opposite, the dog kennels on one side, and the cattery on the other. One window overlooked a garden planted to attract birds to amuse the cats in the cattery window. From the other window there was a view of some of the yard enclosures the dogs used for exercise, training, and socialization.

In the corner where these two large windows meet there was a small window seat, with a ramp leading up to it along the wall from the doorway. On the window seat, in a pile of blankets and pillow, was a dog, a small terrier mix. As Grace entered, he turned stiffly toward her, examined her briefly, and then went back to watching out the windows, nose positioned to catch the draught.

“Don’t mind Harold,” said Elizabeth, the staff member who was showing Grace the office. “He gets to spend most days there, but he’s very quiet, keeps to himself. Doesn’t bother anyone.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” said Grace, smiling. She walked over to him to offer her hand to sniff - a more proper introduction. He did so, politely, gave her another brief look and wagged his tail slightly. Clearly he was more interested in whatever he was observing out the windows. “Wait - is this the Harold that was in that terrible accident?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s him. He’s recovered really well. I gotta say, everyone here absolutely loves him. He showed the most amazing courage and heart all throughout his recovery and the ongoing therapy.”

“I’m surprised he’s still here - doesn’t he have family to go to now that he’s so much better?”

“Well, Nathan’s son works overseas - moves around a lot, so he really couldn’t take the dog. The ex-wife is allergic. If Nathan had other family or friends who’d like a dog, they haven’t stepped forward. But honestly, it’s no hardship to have him here.” Elizabeth laughed. “He came with quite the fund to provide for his medical care and upkeep. Harold gets everything he needs or wants.” She gestured to the ramp and window seat. “If a qualified adopter asks about him, we tell them about the fund, so they don’t have a financial burden, but I think what keeps him here is that most families aren’t looking for an older dog with chronic health problems.”

Grace nodded her understanding. She had a couple of cats already at home, and wasn’t interested in adding a dog to the family.

“Aside from that that, Harold just isn’t very interested in people. You saw he was perfectly polite, but he does his own thing, always has. People go for dogs who are more affectionate, engaging. Like practically every other dog here.” She laughed again. “We love him, but I don’t know that he loves us back. I’m sure he’s happy that we care for him, but I don’t know if love comes into it, honestly.”

“Oh, I bet he does - how could he not? I’m not sure we humans always understand what animals feel.”

“That’s for sure. Anyway, Harold’s happy, we’re happy, and if he found a family, that’d make everyone happy too.”

 

**~o~**

 

Whenever Grace came into the office, the routine was always the same. She’d greet Harold with a couple of caresses, then work quietly at the desk, occasionally talking to someone in her gentle voice, and finally, just before she left, she’d say another brief goodbye.

Eventually Harold started to sort of miss her presence when she wasn’t there. When she was, he’d sometimes leave his window perch to lie on his bed next to the desk. Or he’d sit quietly next to her until she noticed him. She’d smile, and pet him a bit, until he limped back up the ramp.

One time when he was getting his pets by her desk, she stopped to go back to work. Harold found himself lifting his paw to pat at her leg. She gave him a few more pets, then turned back to the desk again. Then Harold  _ whined _ (he never whined). He nearly tried to rise up on his hind legs only, both front legs on Grace (his injuries didn’t actually allow him to do this, but he tried).

“Oh my goodness, Harold, what is it? Do you need out?” Usually he had his walks on schedule by the staff, so Grace never had to concern herself with it. She got up and walked to the door, but Harold didn’t follow her. He just looked at her with pleading eyes. She sat down again, and he put up a paw. “Do you want on my lap, Harold?” Grace had been told he didn’t much like to be touched, or carried, though he tolerated it for his medical care. Tentatively, she placed her hands under him, careful to support him but not put pressure on his injuries, and lifted him to her lap.

If a dog could smile, Harold was smiling at her. He seemed very happy on her lap. He moved around on top of her legs in a few circles, then carefully lay down. He heaved a great sigh, placed his head on his paws, and closed his eyes for sleep, the world’s most contented animal.

After that, Harold almost invariably spent some or all of her time at the shelter on her lap, sometimes sitting up alert, but often simply resting comfortably.


End file.
